Wolf and Lamb
by Dexter McCoy
Summary: ON HIATUS The slaughter of the lambs. A story about the innocent inhabitants of the planet attacked by the Covenant.
1. A Normal Life

Darkness faded into dim light, then flashed quickly. Then again. It became unbearable and was shut out by the darkness again. But slowly it came back, blurry at first, then the white bed sheets, some pillow and a muzzle, sniffing intently. White walls, and a light brown carpet. A wooden desk, dresser, and bedside table, all made of a dark, soft wood came into view. All of this became crisp and clean and simple in the eyes of Jeremy. It was not peaceful, though, because of an unpleasant honking coming from the sleek metal box on his bedside table. It lay next to a metal and wood lamp and a paperback book, "Foundation." His hand groped for the tiny metal "off" contact on the alarm, then slipped back under the sheets. He rolled over on his back, and then pushed himself up on his elbows. He flopped back down and stretched wildly for a minute, then eased himself up, and fell unceremoniously on the floor. His dog licked lovingly on his face, then pranced off happily. Jeremy finally got up, stumbled to his dresser and pulled it open. He dressed slowly and, on the second step down, slipped on the stairs and rode on his butt to the landing, where he picked himself up and made sure to grab the handrail the rest of the way down. He mumbled something that was supposed to mean "hello" to his mom, who was preparing lunch for his little sister and who answered with a more understandable reply. He snatched some cereal from the cupboard and liberated some milk from the fridge. He continued preparing his breakfast.

Looking outside, he enjoyed the leafy trees and colorful flowers of his backyard. A wooden fence surrounded it and his dog romped around happily. It would almost look like someplace in a temperate region on Earth, except instead of living between the 23rd and one half and 66th latitudes, he lived on the 72st latitude of his planet. The axis of rotation on Sylvania was almost level, more precisely 88.48539 degrees. In other words, the planet was on its side. So he actually lived in perpetual day; to sleep you closed your shades. The southern part of the planet never saw the sun, only a gleam on the horizon. That was simply because of the light reflecting off the atmosphere. It made the fifty coldest inhabited (or previously inhabited, if a planet had been glassed by the Covenant) planets known to humans. In addition, the seasons were very slight. Because of this, crop yields on the planet were low and most of its economy was based on its extensive metal supply. Also there were forests of evergreen-like trees near the equator that were cut down and made into the elegant wooden crafts characteristic of the planet.

"Could he eat any slower?" said James, in a news anchor voice. He was Jeremy's younger brother. He was eleven, three years younger than Jeremy. More precisely two years, nine months, five days, one hour and three minutes younger.

Jeremy realized his mind had skipped off gaily to a stream of thought, and his spoon hung limply in his hand. He shoved it deep into the now-soggy cereal and stuffed it quickly down his throat. After finishing the not-so-well-textured food, he snapped his dog's leash on. Russell licked Jeremy's hand in thanks and yanked the fourteen-year old out the back door. They unlocked the gate and walked around the block, Russell sniffing just about everywhere his nose could go. He marked his valuable territory and strutted home with his master in tail.

The mother and her children hopped in the car and shot off to school. As she pulled up to the walk in front of the school, Jeremy opened the car door and leapt out wildly. His backpack flung wildly ahead, then swung back around onto his broadening shoulders. Up the steps he ran! It was already too late, though. Classes started in two minutes and already, the other kids were on their way to class. He ran to his locker, dancing and spinning gracefully down the hall past other less – motivated classmates.

He quickly remembered his saying: lockers never open when you're in a rush. So he calmed himself and dialed in the combination. He coaxed the latch, but not so gently, and the locker opened in a rickety manner. He stuffed in his backpacks and unnecessary books. As he checked his watch he noticed he had twenty seconds. He had to run down the hall, turn left, run very far that way, turn right, and it would be the fifth door to his right. So he bolted down the very empty halls. Flashing past a rather nerdy individual, Noah, with his books on the floor, he smiled. Nerdy, but a friend.

"Oh, no, I don't need any help," he shot.

Jeremy chuckled and kept running. Well, at least he wouldn't be the _only_ one late.

---

"So, Jere, I take it you won't be able to come over to my house this afternoon?"

"No," Jeremy sighed, "Not with that detention. Ms. Harper was really uptight today. She doesn't usually give out detentions if you're a minute late."

"Well. We all get unlucky someday."

Paul walked off to his next class. Another friend. Not part of an extensive list, but Jeremy took what he could get. And anyway, how could a bunch of crummy friends match up to a few good ones?

Paul was relatively tall. Blue eyes clashed with red hair and a round face didn't match his angular, well-muscled body. All these things made him to be a frightening person. And that imposing part of him smash-banged with his friendly, welcoming personality. Paul was a boy of many facets, which made him very interesting to talk to. He was intrigued by history, especially the Human-Covenant War. He studied all the books and poured over any information having to do with the Covenant. He knew just about everything the Covenant did to survivors or prisoners, where they started glassing a planet, how the aliens acted, how they looked, their tenacity, their religion, their desire do destroy humans, and on and on. He also knew the details of the Humans. Political reactions to the news of Harvest's radio silence, the last report of actions and communications at Harvest, and propaganda throughout the war. He knew all about human weapons, technological advancements during the war, all the major engagements, and all the protocol and rules that had to be followed during Covenant attack. He had practically memorized the Cole Protocol. He knew everything Noah could give him about the top-secret Spartans and CSB (Crimson Star Battalion). Noah, though somewhat nerdy, was a great hacker, and sharing some of Paul's interest, helped him get as much top-secret information as possible.

As the writer hopes to have explained, Paul took great lengths to further his extensive knowledge of the war.

Jeremy came to his locker and shoved his books in. Extricating a few more, he walked on to English class. It was actually "Covenant Safety Day" so Mr. Ford had told the class the day before he had planned something "special."

"What's the point of this 'Safety Day' crap? How can you be safe when you're with the Covenant? They just blow us up in their fancy spaceships and plasma light shows," snapped Harry, overflowing with sarcasm. Harry was always rather downcast, and his parents were getting a divorce. That did not help his troubled mind.

"Yes, that _was_ true, Harry, but our Navy has successfully held them back at the third section of the Intermediate Planets. By the way, does anyone know how many sections there are?"

A few hands lazily hauled themselves up.

"Anita?"

Anita, in Jeremy's opinion, was the hottest thing ever. She was just – beyond description.

"There are six sections – each of them is three parsecs across (one parsec is approximately 19,173,511,600,000 miles)."

Jeremy knew, though, that was wrong. The Covenant was closer than that. Paul had told him that was the situation one year ago. They were at the first section now. Of course, the propaganda had kept that quiet. Quite a feat, and quite unfortunately.

"Correct, Anita. And as you all very well know, scientists are working day and night to find solutions for protection against the Covenant. There is one thing we know about the Covenant. They are imitative. Of the few things we know about their religion, it seems to be based on an ancient civilization of great technology. They have copied this technology to the best of their ability. We, on the other hand, are superior in the respect that we can invent. We invented everything we live with now, kids. It's all of our own volition. We made it work.

"In any case, what I wanted to do was first, review safety guidelines -…" The class groaned.

"And if you're cooperative, since today _is_ a double period, we can begin to watch 'Wolf and Wolf.'" The class's sullen mood changed instantly as Mr. Ford announced that. Each and every face snapped from "off" to "on" and everyone started chattering. "Wolf and Wolf" was the smash hit action-drama about Admiral Cole's ferocious battle with the Covenant over glassed Harvest. It had been released just six days ago, and was being aired on the holovision for "informational and educational purposes about the armed forces of humanity's fight against the Covenant," as UNSC President James McCoy had said. However bland that statement was, the movie was not.

His mood improved, Jeremy focused on how he could position himself to safely check out Anita during the movie.

---

"And how was school today, Jere?" asked his father.

"Well, as is obvious, I got a detention, but in other news-…"

"Let's talk about why you got a detention first. How is it that you got to class that late?"

"Well, if James could get his lazy self out of bed earlier, it would be nicer."

"You were the one eating slow this morning."

"Also, I was only one lousy minute late. In fact, 44 seconds. I checked. Ms. Harper was very angry today. She doesn't usually do that."

"Well, then. James' late sleeping is a problem, but punctuality within fifteen seconds would be more desirable."

"What, you expected me to run faster or something?"

"No, but you shouldn't be a minute late every day. You need to be more timely than that."

"Yeah, fine."

"Good. Now what else happened?"

"I was going to say, we started watching 'Wolf and Wolf' today in English class. It was really good." That was about all Jeremy could say, because, though he had enjoyed the movie, he had been paying a good amount of attention to Anita, too.

"Well I'm glad you enjoyed it. I've been hoping to see it myself – you guys want to see it in the theater this weekend?"

"Yes! All we did in English today was write five ways to improve the Safety Guidelines!" said James excitedly. His black hair flopped around and his grey eyes somehow brightened at the idea.  
"Is it scary, daddy?" asked Gloria, Jeremy's seven-year old sister.  
"You may not be able to see it. Joan, it looks like this might end up to be a gentlemen's only outing."

Jeremy's mother raised her eyebrows and said, "Unless I call the babysitter."

"Hmmm. That's a possibility."

Jeremy's mom was not the moviegoer type, but she always wanted to see the very good ones. She also preferred dramas – and since "Wolf and Wolf" was three hours long, there was plenty time for the boys' action and the mother's drama. So if, for one rare night, one of her precious children had to be left with a babysitter, it wouldn't matter as much.

Dinner continued without much incident. Afterwards Jeremy finished the last bits of his mound of homework, and he crashed in his bed.

---

Next morning, Russell hopped onto Jeremy's bed and licked his face for what seemed an exceptionally long time. Jeremy managed to hide himself under the covers and his seven-year old jack terrier leapt happily off the bed and went back to his morning meal. Jeremy pulled himself out of bed and dressed. He snatched his backpack and precious pencil, which was made of the finest wood on Sylvania. He had received twelve from his grandfather years ago, and prized the nine remaining very much. Those thoughts carried him down the stairs and to the breakfast room, where he pulled down the box of cereal and took the milk out of the fridge. Once again he peered outside at the large trees and colorful flowers. But today he was not so distracted and finished his breakfast in a timelier manner. James tottered down the stairs sleepily and sort of ran into the table without much speed – or control. His arm flailed wildly across it, and _oops_. Gloria's small glass of milk seemed to take a moment to decide whether to fall over or not. But today it was feeling rambunctious and it fell over, spilling the girl's favorite drink all over her toast and lap.

"Mommy, James spilled my milk!"

"James, what are you trying to do? You always seem to get on your sibling's nerves. Help your sister clean the mess up." The shocked and now very much awake James stood rather frozen, his arm outstretched across the table, one leg back a little to balance himself – all in all he looked silly. Jeremy chuckled throatily.

"You better hop to it so I'm not late again, Jim. I have plans for tonight."

"Yes, Sire. As you wish."

"Come on, Jimmy, take this dishrag and wipe up the milk," said Joan, handing her second son a soapy cloth. Her eyebrows were raised, and she sighed in exasperation. James hastily mopped up his mess and tossed the rag back in the sink. Then he took two paper towels and dried it up. Finally, he stuck a bagel in the toaster and sat down to the comics.

Jeremy now stood up and prepared for Russell's walk. Russell led the way, trotting royally in front. The walk was as usual. This morning, however, Jeremy's sister and brother were ready to go when he returned this time, and they left the house. And so, Jeremy had no reason to rush this morning, and arrived to class on time. Ms. Harper was also in a much better mood.

So the day began.


	2. Female Woes

The shrill ringing gave Jeremy a start.

"Alright, class, don't forget to read pages 245-249 in _Ancient Days_ for tomorrow. Get as much detail in on the questions as possible," said Ms. Harper, finishing her class with an original touch.

"So Jeremy, were you actually paying attention or were you just twiddling with your pencil?" asked Danielle. A girl no one paid any particular attention to, she was always like this – making sure everyone was doing what they were supposed to be doing. Sometimes when Jeremy's baseball coach or parents were talking to him, he would look off at nothing in particular, and it looked like the words were going in and out of his ears. But it wasn't true! He was listening – he just fiddled excessively.

"Both," he answered smartly. Danielle glared at him and walked away.

Paul sauntered up beside Jeremy and raised his left eyebrow.

"Something's always eating her. Wonder why she's so bossy."

"She probably takes after a parent. Don't we all?"

"Yeah, I guess so," said Paul. "You know, Anita is not stupid."

"Do _I_ look stupid, Paul? How did she know how many miles a parsec was? Or is that common knowledge?"

"Right, but the point is, she has noticed you checking her out. And she's not really raring to have you ask her out."

"How did this come to your knowledge? You don't gossip much."

"Yeah, but I heard it passing some popular kids. Like Mary and Gabrielle and that bunch. They know. You are almost a laughing stock. They're all talking behind your back."

Jeremy understood what Paul was talking about as an empty feeling formed in his gut. Two days ago he had had what seemed to be a level conversation with Jack, a popular jock. Foolishly, it had been about something sensitive. Girls.

"So you like Anita, huh? She is pretty hot. Except, I prefer blondes," said Jack.

"Gentlemen usually do," said Jeremy, referring to a very old movie he had seen. "But I like brunettes. Blonde seems too – bright for me. I don't know how to say it."

"It's not such a rich color, is it?"

"Yeah, that must be it. Brown is chocolaty. Sensual."

"I can understand that reasoning," a smile spreading across his wide, square face. His teeth were fairly even, with a porcelain white color. A flare of superficial evil sparkled for an instant across Jack's eyes.

"And which girl is it that you favor?" questioned Jeremy. His voice cracked.

"Ah, that would be Mary. Nice curves, and blonde. I like blue eyes, you know."

"I think, well…" Jeremy wouldn't say that. He thought Mary was slightly bottom-heavy.

"Well what?"

"Nothing."

"Seeya," then he walked away. Jeremy watched him start chatting to some of his friends.

"Dude! You _told_ him all that?" said Paul exasperatedly. His eyebrows shot up and his green eyes opened wide in disbelief.

"Well, he seems like a nice guy on a day-to-day basis," said Jeremy.

"That's a weak excuse, man. I guess you have a chance. Either, none of them will care except the disgusted Anita, who will never speak to you, or they all know and use it to make fun of you."

Jeremy realized he had made a hash of it. If Paul were right, probably both of those things would happen. There was nothing he could do about it. His move was made, and now he just had to wait for the enemy to see his huge tactical blunder. His best hope was the mostly amiable Anita wouldn't really mind whether or not her friends did. So he thought of that.

"Wake up, man, we're not all friends anymore. We're in eighth grade. People are nasty, and you have to watch out for yourself. Your parents won't always be telling you what to do. Think for yourself. And don't talk about girls to popular boys. Popular anybody! Jeez."

"Yeah. Seeya later."

Paul walked off in a worried storm.

--

Noah came over to Jeremy as he sat down to lunch. "Man, I've got bad news. I clearly heard some popular guys snickering about you and Anita. I also heard, 'his voice cracked'. That mean anything to you?"

"Yeah. What have I done? I am such an idiot, Noah. I mean, you wouldn't even do this."

"That is obvious. I'm too smart to have, Jere."

"Oh, right."

"But, man, I've got to go. Sorry." It was probably some talk with his math teacher. Or the computer teacher, a young guy called Mr. Cage. He was a lot of fun, and was always coming up with something new and cool you could do with your computer. Jeremy knew Noah and him devised hacking methods, secretly.

Jeremy's third friend sat down next to him. The jeans had a hole in each knee, and the green shirt had its short sleeves rolled up to the shoulders. The antique black Converse sneakers were covered with dirt and mud. He could see the biceps ripple slightly as the lunch bag landed on the table.

In what seemed to be an accident, her long, dark brown, almost black hair landed ungraciously on Jeremy's head. He gave Layla a sideways look. Her name didn't match her appearance or personality. The name Layla roughly meant "wine or its intoxicating effects." Jeremy had no idea what was intoxicating about getting the crap beaten out of you by a girl. Well, she was fairly pretty, but still… Apparently her grandmother had been from India on Earth.

"Sorry, Jere. I hate having it pulled back all the time."

"It's alright," he said, brushing it away. It sort of stuck to his short black hair. How many times had she told him that?

"Well, I heard some stuff about you and Anita -…"

"Yeah, whatever."

"So you like her? Interesting. There's that dance coming up. You gonna ask her to it?"

"I guess. I don't know. No. She'll just laugh. Maybe not. She seems nice."

"Yes, she does.

"But I was thinking, Jere, I'm not in Mr. Ford's class, and if you wanted to see Wolf and Wolf this weekend I'm all open." Jeremy and Layla were very old friends, and going to the movies with each other was nothing special. Once last winter, during the middle of a movie, he had almost sort of felt like putting his arm about her, but decided against it. Any feelings he had for her were on and off. He couldn't explain it. He liked her, but he didn't love her. He felt completely amorous when he thought, saw or talked to Anita. Talking to Layla was just normal, since he had been doing it all his life. And looking at her… Well, it didn't seem right. She seemed almost like a sister. So thinking she was hot wasn't an option. In general, the relationship was nothing special. Jeremy had a moment of feeling sorry for her – not the hot girl, not the popular girl, not much the anything girl.

She was the tomboy.

--

The moment passed.

"So far, I'm liking it very much-…"

"As you are looking at Anita?" she said expectantly.

"You win," Jeremy said. He sensed a tinge of jealousy in her voice. "Sorry. Why does it matter, anyway? You're not interested in me… I never thought that, you know…" Jeremy faded. He was confused. It seemed each forest path he looked down was dank and shadowy.

"It's probably just some resentment. We've grown attached to each other, right, Jere? What can you expect? Go out with her, have yourself a time, and when you're finished you can tell me about all the fun you had."

"Some resentment? A little more than that, I think. We've had fun together. Don't act like we haven't gone to water parks, movies, even beaches. Our families have had dinner together. I can't think of you as a normal girl. You're more -…"

"What?"

"Ah, well. Forget it. Nothing. Whatever."

--

The day proceeded on. Jeremy never really considered Layla liking _him_. But that came to mind now. The amount of jealousy, expectancy and resentment in her voice at lunch were high. That made him almost certain Layla liked him. It didn't seem possible to end up that way, though. They had known each other for as long as they could remember, so yes, they were "attached" like Layla had said but he hadn't thought she meant that way. He knew they weren't related, so maybe she thought of it that way, but he had known her for so long it seemed almost perverted to think of their relationship that way.

He hadn't really known about Anita until three years ago. She had thick, milk chocolate colored hair that just about flowed to her shoulders. Her eyes were a rich hazelnut and they gleamed all the time. Her skin looked soft to the touch and her body possessed the sort of curves you found in rolling ocean swells or Venetian glass vases. Needless to say, she was a feast to the eyes and very few boys could keep from looking at this daughter of Venus when passing by.

But because of the simplicity of the relationship with her, it was easier to fantasize without guilt. Anita was easy-going with him, but he knew the idea of being together hardly pleased her. They had had to do a play for drama class once, with assigned roles. They had ended up being spouses, and, when the teacher had asked them to cross arms, he could feel the reluctance. One of the few things that had kept his hopes up was the funny way she said his name. He laughed inwardly at himself.

"Hey! Jere! Man!" called Noah.

"Yeah?"

"Man, listen. Mr. Cage just helped me figure out this new syntax. And I've figured out the encryption on UNSC radio channels. I know everything that's going on that isn't top secret. Now all I have to do is use my clock radio and computer so I can stream the signal…"

"Yeah, so? You listen to them. Nothing happens up there. The captains just crack jokes and the Admiral smokes his wooden pipe."

"Actually, that's against regulation. And there's only two frigates and four MACs over our planet."

"Well, you get my point. Nothing interesting happens here. This is just a mining planet. Just some metals, jewels, and wood. What would the Covenant want with us?"

"Well, you're jumping to conclusions, but, if they did come here it would either be to stop export of our metals because they think there's some kind of religious… stuff."

"Oh. So we're all going to die. We're what, the fifth section in the Inner Planets. That's the furthermost, as we all know. So next they will send a holy armada and kill us all. Right? They'll jump across the entire first section of the Intermediate Planets to get their precious metals. Or whatever."

"Um, well yes. Except, we're just hoping that won't happen. It's silly to assume, I mean."

"Well, no. I'm sure Paul would tell you we place sixth for exportation of metals in remaining planets. Which means, either they don't want us building more warships or they want some of their religious stuff. So, if you're in a bad mood like me, you can say, yes, we will all die."

"Uh. Alright… What's eating you?"

"Girls."

"Oh. Well, don't ask me."

"Yup, I know."

"Sorry I can't help. But I have no experience."

"Yeah."

Jeremy continued to Language class, which passed without commotion. He trudged back to his locker, stuffed all his books in and went out to the front steps to be picked up.

--

"So how was your day, Jere?" asked his mother.

"No so great – Layla and I are at odds over something sensitive."

"Well?"

"Just forget it. We're going to die soon, anyway. Mom, you know, the Covenant has really made it to the second section of the Intermediate Planets. Paul knows it, and so does Noah. They're coming here next."

"You are in a bad mood. The Covenant would never come here, at least as long as I can help. In any case, you know your father has a place for us on the escape ship. Listen, maybe you and Layla are mad but you'll probably sort it out. You've been friends for quite a long time, and I'm sure you've had other problems that you solved."

"Mom, everyone knows escape ships just get blown away the minute they leave the atmosphere. They're no match for Seraphs." An "escape ship" was a modified Prowler. It was stripped of all weapons except a fixed 50 mm cannon on its nose, and had extra armor. The net weight gain was negative, so it went faster, but only so much. It was equipped with a Shaw-Fujika Slip-Space Drive, so the concept was, get off the planet and get away. They rarely worked. The Covenant Seraphs were much faster and their plasma bolts and pulse lasers made quick work of them.

"Well, be in a bad mood."

--

"Dad," Jeremy said, stuffing more chicken in his mouth, "Layla was wondering if the two of us could see Wolf and Wolf." It was garbled and not understandable.

"Care to repeat that?"

"Yeah," Jeremy swallowed, "Layla wants to see Wolf and Wolf with me."

"Jerie likes Layla! Smooches!" squeaked Gloria. James accompanied it with kissing noises.

"Well, what about the four of us? Layla can baby-sit Gloria and we'll tell her about it afterwards," cracked their father, a smile spreading across his wide face.

"Har har. What if we all saw it on the same night, in the same place, but not the same theatre? Give us some time alone?"

"Better yet, we could have dinner with Layla and her parents, then they could come with us while Jere and Layla watched it. Wherever," offered Jeremy's mother.

"Yeah! See, Dad."

"But I wanted to watch it with you, Jere. It was supposed to be a family thing. Right? But you're a teenager, so you don't want be seen with me," he said, with a little sarcasm.

"That's just about the size of it, Dad. Plus, I don't want you watching over me when, well. Whatever."

"When what? -…"

"He starts making out with Layla!" teased James.

"I just want to be alone. I don't have any reasons. Just let us be alone. OK?"

"Alright, I trust you. You're responsible. Heaven knows how you controlled Jamie when your mother and I went to dinner and the opera that one night…"

"Oh, Dad, you can't imagine. It was Hell."

"Yes, I bet it was," raising his left eyebrow in disapproval of Jeremy's language.

"So…?"

"So you get your way. I suppose we'll have to buy it on holodisc when it comes out anyway. Then we can watch it in the comfort of our own home."

"Well, Saturday is good, right, dear? You're leaving on the trip on Sunday night, so that wouldn't work. I'll talk to Jane tomorrow, then," added his wife. The reason Jeremy and Layla knew each other so well was because they lived right next to each other. Layla's mom, Jane, had been genial with Olivia, Jeremy's mother, when his parents had first moved in. The two couples had become good friends, and had taken the liberty of replacing the six-foot fence with a three-foot one. Michael, Layla's father, and Peter, Jeremy's, had taken to grilling together frequently in the summer.

"I'll get an appropriate show time. If dinner can be ready by five, we can finish around seven, then see a seven thirty or eight showing."

"Oh, Dad, we couldn't have that. Layla might fall asleep on Jere's shoulder."

As the younger of her two brothers said that, Gloria couldn't help but see the idea spark a light in "Jerie's" emerald eyes.


	3. Night at the Movies

Saturday morning. Wake up. Take shower. Play hologames. Eat waffles. And bacon. Play more hologames. Do something. Eat lunch. Do something else. Four o'clock, open fence gate, start up grill. Eat dinner. Go to movies. Make out with Layla.

Make out with Layla? Some throwback to a more feral part of Jeremy's mind. Maybe he was having a sudden hormonal spike.

The day ahead of Jeremy was laid out in sure, definite segments, whether what to do in the segments was definite or not. Step one was complete. Now he had to coax his muscles into movement so he could get to the shower. That would wake him up, and his body would be ready to go downstairs to play his favorite hologames. This would help the wait for his favorite breakfast, which he sometimes helped to make.

He didn't feel like helping this time. So after an awakening, freshening shower Jeremy went downstairs and played hologames. It was about six, and around seven the smell of bacon could be gleaned from the air. Which meant it was time to go upstairs and start helping with – or eating – breakfast.

Jeremy found his mother tending to the bacon.

"The Bacon-Meister has arrived. Step aside," he announced.

"It's about fifteen minutes into the cooking, so you take care of them and I'll get the waffles started. Gloria said she wanted to help wash these blueberries, but she must still be sleeping," explained Olivia.

"And what about whipped cream? Any of that? That's essential. Can't forget the whipped cream."

"Well, yes, Gloria was going to whip the cream."

"Where's dad?"

"In the living room."

"Where's James?"

"Must be in his room." And so the breakfast making continued. Gloria eventually came down and washed the blueberries and whipped the cream, all on her stepping stool. Once the first waffle was in the iron, Jeremy alerted his dad and James. His dad replied with an "alright" like he always did, and James was still sleeping, so he made a sort of gurgling noise when Jeremy shook him.

Jeremy went back downstairs and got the first waffle. Golden, crispy on the outside and fluffy on the inside, this was the perfect waffle. But usually they were like this so he never had anything to complain about. He spooned on some blueberries and whipped cream and drizzled auburn maple syrup all over.

Then his mother set the bacon down. It was still hot. As usual, Jeremy had worked his magic on the stuff. The entire piece was cruchy and brown, but the fat was tan and, though it had a thin sheen of cooked-ness on the outside, once it was inserted in the mouth, in simply melted.

So the day began.

--

Jeremy caught his breath as he crouched up against the wall. Around the corner lurked several grunts and jackals. The glow of their shields eerily lit the dark hall. Quickly, he pulled the pin of a grenade and tossed it around the corner. The result: a flash of light, a loud barking report and orange splattering blood. He leaped out with his battle rifle chattering. Quickly the last squealing grunts were silenced. He ran past the slick blood, and when he came to the next turn, he peeked around, only to come face to face with a red-armored elite.

When it opened its mouth, however, it said, "Jeremy!" not the growling shout it should have. He quickly slapped a button on his wrist set and removed his virtual reality helmet.

"What do you want for lunch?" asked his mother.

"Um, a grilled cheese? With some mustard."

"Right. And Noah is on the phone."

"OK," sighed Jeremy, reluctantly taking the helmet from under his arm and placing it tenderly on the couch. Running to the handset, he wondered just what Noah had to say.

"Hello?"

"Jere? Yeah. I was wondering – what's the homework?"

"Shut up. You never forget homework. What is it, really? I've got this game and there's an elite in my face. The butt of my gun is getting impatient. You see, it has an appointment with the elite's head."

"Yeah. OK. I gave Paul some new hacking algorithms, and he told me that he had turned up some highly sensitive information. Lately, Covenant probes have been showing up in strange places – not around military bases, which is what one would have expected. The planets seem random at first. But after careful examination… the Covenant isn't looking for population, military power, size, location or political influence. Do you know what they are looking for, Jeremy?"

"Surprise me."

"They're -… Oh dang, it's my mom. I have to go."

"Bye." Whatever. Jeremy continued with his games.

As soon as he left the pause menu, he sidestepped expediently. Unfortunately, his gun was sliced apart by the elite's sword. He grabbed its arm and wrestled it side to side. The sword swung around quite hazardously, until it, by chance, shaved the elite's leg. The alien shouted out in pain. The momentary release of pressure allowed Jeremy to snatch the blade away, but he only received a punch in the side. Then another, and another, and a kick to his leg. His character crumpled down, and he desperately tried to kill the elite – but its boot quickly came across his face, snapping his neck.

"Damn!" He snatched the helmet from his head and tossed it on the couch.

"Jeremy! Lunch!" Trotting upstairs, Jeremy found Gloria.

"Was it Layla? When are you going to kiss her?"

"When you're not watching. You're not mature enough for such images yet. You might go crazy."

"Really?"

"Yep. Little girls who watch their brothers kissing always seem to go crazy and die. I forget the name, but it's a dangerous disease. Almost always fatal."

"Oh. Well, kissing is disgusting, anyway."

"Hm. You feel like that now, but…"

"No. I'm never going to kiss anyone. It's slimy."

"Suit yourself."

"Who was it, really?"

"It was Layla. We're going to kiss at the movie tonight."

"No! You're lying. Mommy, Jeremy is lying. It's not nice to lie, Jeremy. You're going to get in trouble."

"Jeremy, you know what happens to liars," said his mom, joining in on the fun.

"Yeah. They get their tongues eaten off by mice when they're sleeping."

"You just lied twice. Now you're in big trouble!"

"It was Noah. He had some very secret things to tell me. Top secret. Can't tell you. In fact, your ears would melt if you heard it."

"Now you lied three times. You're never going to see the movie now, Jerie." Jeremy chuckled at this.

Once his sister had finished her lunch and left, his mom sat down next to him and took a bite of her pizza.

"So, what did Noah have to say?" she asked.

"Oh, just a question about homework."

--

"Mikey! Man, what's our menu tonight?"

"Well, Pete, I had a porterhouse in mind. Three, to be exact. Comes out to two and three quarters pounds?"

"Sounds fine. I'll get out the grill," said Jeremy's father.

"Yes, the big grill." Michael moved inside to thaw the steaks. He found Olivia and Jane cutting lettuce and preparing to bake squash. Having cleverly put the steaks in the fridge that morning, they were not frozen and it took a quick zap in the microwave to thaw them out. Meanwhile Peter had fully prepared grill, stuffing the newspaper and charcoal in the chimney and lit it all up. Jane brought out the hors d'oeuvres, which consisted of an assortment of crackers and cheeses, dips and those funny miniature vegetables.

Jeremy immediately rushed the food.

"Save room for dessert, Jere," joked his mom. Michael chuckled, coming out of the house with two beers. He set one down on the table.

"Go long, man!" Peter ran out to the middle of the backyard, picking the bottle out the air.

"Yes! Touchdown, Wolves!"

"Ha-ha!" Peter came back to the porch and popped off the cap on the bottle.

"Someday, you're going to drop that bottle, and it's going to smash to pieces. I won't be picking it up, Michael."

"Jane, that could never happen. Pete and I were on the football team in college. I was the quarterback and he was the wide receiver. We were as smooth as butter."

"Dad, you were fourth-string," cracked Layla, coming out of the door.

"Hush, child."

"Hey, Jere," Layla said, shifting her attention to Jeremy.

"Hey."

"Oh no! Daddy, are they going to kiss yet? I can't watch," squealed Gloria.

"No, not yet," said her father, chuckling.

"What's that about? Kissing?" asked Michael, raising an eyebrow.

"Just little kids, Mikey. Gloria, why don't you help your mother with the cooking?"

"Alright, daddy." Jeremy noticed his sister kept her gaze in the direction opposite him as she rushed inside.

Quickly all talk turned to football, food, good times past and what to do next week. So the fun began.

--

"Alright! We're here!" announced Peter. The two families stepped out of their cars, excluding Gloria. Quickly her mother pulled out her phone.

"Olivia… She's fine."

"I'm just checking. I want to remind the babysitter of a few things."

"Women, Pete." Michael's wife slapped her foot against his calf.

"Ow! See, they're violent. Dangerous."

"You have to negotiate with them," replied Peter.

"That in itself, though!" Peter chuckled at Michael's remark.

"Men! Always getting drunk," said Jane.

"Tell me about it," answered Olivia, neatly putting her phone in her purse.

"Can we just go?" asked James.

"Yes. Let's," said Jeremy. For once they agreed on something.

After purchasing the tickets they moved into the lobby of the building. In front were the counters, holding all varieties of candy, featuring popcorn and soda. To the left was the game arcade and passageway to all the theaters, and hanging all around, of course, were billboards and banners for all kinds of movies. Dominating all, though, was the banner for Wolf on Wolf. The entourage advanced to the food counters.

"Mike, you go with everybody and get some seats. I'll get the food," said Peter, "James, stay and help me carry it all."

"Got it. Everyone follow me."

"Jeremy, what's it gonna be?" asked Peter.

"Um, two small sodas and as much popcorn as we'll need?"

After the purchase, the last four of the group went to their respective theaters. However, Peter came to the theater in which Jeremy and Layla were sitting.

"Jere, come here."

"Alright." His father led him to the entrance of the theater.

"I know you're growing up, Jere, and I know that maybe you're friends don't think that listening to their parents is cool, but I want you to listen to me now. You and Layla have been friends for a long time, and you don't need to stop being friends. You're responsible and that's the way I wanted it. I always wanted you to be smart and responsible. I'm letting you go in there because I trust you won't do anything you aren't supposed to. I know what this is all about so you better do what I tell you. I've got firsthand experience. Once you get into this, things get more complicated. You have to be mature and deal with it like a man. What I trying to say is, just know that, not only do your mother and me expect you to do the right thing, Layla's mother and father do too. I trust you, Jere. Go on."

Jeremy turned around. He knew the butterflies in his stomach were especially active tonight because he'd probably do the opposite of everything his father just said.


	4. Strange Developments

The lights dimmed as Jeremy walked in to the theater. The feeling in his gut for some reason told him he would undoubtedly do all the wrong things once he sat down next to Layla. The feelings confused him. He didn't want to get involved with this lifelong friend, but… he did. He did want Anita, but he also wanted Layla. Maybe it was just something he'd suppressed. Now he was frustrated; why had their parents let him and Layla become such good friends? Didn't they consider the possibility that… But why now? Just because everyone else was?

Jeremy found that being a man was a lot more than how strong you were, how smart you were, or how popular you were. A man is mature – or so one would hope. That is what separates a man from a boy.

So as he sat down, he asked himself this: would he be a man or a boy?

Now he wondered what it was in him that had decided he wanted this: the boy's rash crush or the man's faithful love. He pondered further. What was Layla thinking? What did she want?

"Hey, Jere. Lemme see the popcorn," Layla said. "Too much salt, dammit."

"Uh-huh."

"What happened? Your father give you a talk? So did my parents. I know it's right, what they said, but…" _Let's just enjoy the movie, let's just go ahead and do it anyway?_

"Well… I uh, I guess… uh." stammered Jeremy. His hormones were getting ready to throw his brain out the window.

"Well, what the Hell, Jere."

Yeah. 

---

Noah sometimes came across funny bits of irrelevant crap while in the process of hacking and scanning for information with Paul. It became a habit. He'd stay up late, carefully reading and analyzing the subjects of messages, summaries of reports and statistics. He always liked statistics. It was interesting to quantify things, to him – you could put a value to everything that way. That was nerdy, _But_, Noah thought, _I'm a nerd anyway_. Needless to say he always took extra time to review graphs and numbers charts about anything regarding the war.

This morning he had turned up something that seemed irrelevant at first, but after more careful inspection his eye caught something. The file showed the top twenty planets in terms of metal production. Noah knew that Sylvania would be on the list. Just for kicks, he brought up an automatically updating file he kept: it showed which of the hundreds of planets humanity inhabited had been glassed. He quickly scanned the list and realized something very disturbing. Sylvania was the ninth highest metal-producing planet… The Covenant had progressively been glassing the top thirty. They had gotten quite far down the list: down to number eleven. If he acted quickly, though, Noah might be able to stop the destruction of Sylvania. Or at least give the two billion or so people a chance to get away. So he called Jeremy.

Unfortunately his mother had interrupted him. That wouldn't stop him. He grabbed his laptop and went with her to the grocery store. His mother would definitely deny it; in fact, everyone would make quite an effort to shut the issue up. The UNSC had constructed the largest propaganda machine in history – one that would fool everyone, from the colonies to Earth, in to believing that the Covenant was valiantly being held back, one that had just turned out the biggest hit movie and piece of propaganda ever: _Wolf and Lamb_. Noah, Jeremy and Paul knew otherwise. They also knew that it would have been futile to try and prove anything, even to their parents. But now, many things very dear to them were in danger, including their lives. Self-preservation is natural, so Noah had to tell his mother this time. He didn't want to end up as a cloud of vapor flying farther and farther apart in space. He balanced his computer on one hand and quickly brought up the two documents.

"Mom, look at this. The Covenant has glassed all these worlds. I think we're next."

---

Jeremy had no idea what he was doing but it wasn't watching the movie. He decided that was an exaggeration. Regardless, making out with Layla turned out to be better than one might have thought. Jeremy was trying to bring it to an end, because there were other people in the theater. It wasn't the most private place. Plus, the movie was coming to the first encounter with the Covenant over Harvest. Which was a nearly a slaughter, considering the two frigates, the _Vostok _and _Arabia_ were destroyed and the destroyer _Heracles _badly damaged. In different scenes actual recordings of battles had been inserted – this was one of them. Since the Heracles was the only ship that had survived, the real shots had shown the two frigates being struck with plasma, and the metal armor turning into vapor and then freezing again into specks of dust. Atmosphere shot out of the gaping holes in the armor. Decompressions tugged at bulkheads and flung crewmen and women into the deep cold of space. Finally, their hulls scorched and in places still burning white-hot, the two frigates were destroyed, even though their reactors still weakly idled. The Heracles fired two successive shots from its cannon. It was a sight to see – one of the external view cameras on the ship was mounted just above the twin cannon barrels. As they charged, blue electricity sparked along their length until finally, they spat fire at the Covenant ship. A hundred Archer missiles followed – but the effort was useless. Point defense laser cannons burned away the missiles. The alien spacecraft maneuvered out of the trajectory of the twin fireballs speeding towards it enough so the first round bounced off the shields and the second cleanly missed. The ship turned to face the _Heracles_ – and plasma charged along the sides of the ship. Two more cannons warmed on the ventral prow, and it looked almost like the craft wore a cruel, angry, unforgiving smile. What more was the Covenant? Jeremy had seen the vids Noah found – grunts and jackals, more feral beasts than intelligent life, tearing civilians apart, killing without thought.

He shoved the thought aside. He was here to have fun. There was still the movie to enjoy. And Layla, of course.

---

"What is it, Noah?"

"Mom, this is a list of planets that are or used to be under our control. If you look at this other list, of the top thirty planets for metal production, you'll notice that nineteen have been glassed. Everyone knows the Covenant can make SlipSpace jumps to about anywhere they want. Mom, we might be next."

"That's ridiculous, dear," and Noah could already sense a nervous tone in his mother's voice. "It's common knowledge that our armies and navies are successfully holding them back."

"Mom, this is military information. The UNSC has a network of propaganda set up to fool everyone into believing what you said. This is really what's happening."

"How can that be true? What have you been doing lately? Isn't this illegal? Noah, you will be incriminated for this… I'm no lawyer, but I bet you'll be lucky if they try you as a minor. This is serious! What were you thinking when you read these files? Don't you know this is dangerous?"

"Mom! I'm telling you, this is true and we need to tell someone before it's too late!" Noah and his mother were shouting now. Everyone at the store had turned to look and stare. Somebody had called the manager, who was a stout, fat man with a balding head and often-sweaty brow.

"What's the matter here? Would you calm down? I'm going to have to ask you to leave!"

"Mister, I've -…"

"Noah, shush. Sir, my son is creating a disturbance by telling me such fearsome lies that I have lost control of myself. He has hacked government files, supposedly, and tells me -…"

"Mom! Shut up! The Covenant are coming to this planet!" Noah shouted. "And if you don't leave now, people, you could end up like the trillions of other people who were killed in this war – goddamn vaporized!"

Everyone stopped, turned and gasped. The manager's brow started sweating more than it ever had. He breathed hard.

"Young man, you're coming with me… NOW!" Noah's mother screamed. They left the store in a hurry. The manager stood, trying to stop his brow from sweating so profusely.

Noah's mother dragged him to their car.

"What was that? What were you thinking? I thought you were intelligent enough to know that saying something like that, that loud, in public is very dangerous! You will be punished, not by me, by the United Nations Space Command! They will have your head on a plate! How could this be true, anyway?"

"Mom, have you ever seen a war vid? A record of battle, from a spaceship or a Marine's helmet camcorder? In most ground battles, if we win we win by the skin of our teeth! Whole companies fall! Men are burned in half by plasma bolts! In space, it's worse. In most situations, we only win if we have three times as many spaceships as the Covenant… The UNSC doesn't want anyone to know. At least, not know until the day they die. I need you to believe me. I need you to tell someone who can do something about it. This is so important – it's our lives!"

---

It happened all the time. Some weirdo would send in a letter, saying the Covenant would attack. It happened almost a thousand times a month. And it was his job to read them all.

Miles didn't know how he ended up with the job he did. He went to college, studied hard, wanting to join ONI. So he did. He got stuck reading these letters. Most of them came from the same people, over and over, with strange claims and often, they had bad grammar and spelling. Half of them were probably pranks. _Stupid prank_, he thought. _Really stupid prank_. _Pretty fucking stupid prank._

Miles got up to stretch, grabbed a doughnut from the table in the mess hall, then went back to his cubicle. He sipped his cold coffee and opened up the next. It was six thirty-six. Just twenty-four more minutes and he could go home. The subject of this one was _ none _. It had two attachments. It read this:

My son has brought to my attention the two documents attached to this e-mail. I am thoroughly concerned after examining them. I am quite sincere as my life and everyone else's possibly hang in the balance. Please review the two documents carefully.

There were plenty like this. He had seen hundreds like this before. For kicks, Miles opened the two files. Sometimes, they were viruses. Other times, they were ads, animations, movies, pictures – you name it. Mostly crap normal people like Miles didn't want to waste time going over. These were different, though – everything was real. The documents' ID codes matched the UNSC style, and the planetary profiles were complete. These weren't fakes.

Miles was motivated by this notion he had. He quickly sent a high-priority message to his administrator with the two files. It was going to take a couple of days, but Miles was sure this would get through.

Of course, first it would go to another loser like him, reading these dumb messages all day, who would read them over and send them on. Next, the file would get examined by a bunch of techies, checking for any missed viruses, cookies or other electronic entities. Then it would go through to another guy sitting at a desk all day, who would send it to his boss, who would send it to his boss, who would send it to his boss, and then to his boss, and finally to the boss of all things. And by the time it got to him, it might be too late. _Damn bureaucrats,_ he thought.

Thinking about it, now Miles wasn't sure that it would get through at all. The UNSC had found reasons to block some pretty serious-looking stuff before… _Goddamn bureaucrats,_ he thought.

He punched the "send" button.

He sighed. _Finally got a chance to do some good… Maybe._


End file.
